


Not Completely the Worst

by mainstreamelectricalparade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Flash Thompson Redemption, Gen, Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Mild Language, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, flash is a potty mouth ok, more like rivals to friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainstreamelectricalparade/pseuds/mainstreamelectricalparade
Summary: Peter's spidey-sense had been going off all day. If he had to stay at school for literally another minute longer, he was probably going to go insane.And of course, there was one person at school whose single goal in life seemed to be ensuring that that happened.“Yo, Penis! Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Flash called after Peter as he took the steps three at a time in his attempt to make a quick getaway.Peter squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation and kept walking. Maybe if he ignored the problem, it would go away.Because that had always worked so well for him, in the past.---Or, the one where Peter has a bad feeling, and Flash is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark (background)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 577
Collections: marvel fics that are marvelous





	Not Completely the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> this was requested by sliceofpeterpie on Tumblr! i had so much fun writing this, i've never really written Flash before, but when i saw this prompt i knew i had to give it a shot!
> 
> "Hiiiii I was wondering if you could write a fic where Peter and flash get kidnapped together and Peter takes all the hits for flash including some more serious ones (like broken bones or gsws) and flash actually starts to be nice to Peter. tysmmmm"

Peter's spidey-sense had been going off _all day_. If he had to stay at school for literally another minute longer, he was probably going to go insane.

And of course, there was one person at school whose single goal in life seemed to be ensuring that that happened.

“Yo, Penis! Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Flash called after Peter as he took the steps three at a time in his attempt to make a quick getaway.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation and kept walking. Maybe if he ignored the problem, it would go away.

Because that had always worked _so well_ for him, in the past.

“Hey! I'm talking to you!” Rapid footsteps picked up behind Peter, and then he was being pushed from behind as Flash's shoulder collided with his, and then Flash was in front of him, walking backwards so he could walk and taunt at the same time. “Where are you going? Your _Stark Internship?”_

“That's on Fridays,” Peter muttered, hitching his backpack a little higher and attempting to step around Flash, but the other boy followed his movements, cutting off his escape no matter which way he tried to dodge. “Flash, _move.”_

“What if I don't?” Flash said, grinning, spreading his arms out wide. “What's _poor, pathetic little Penis Parker_ gonna do about it? _Make_ me?”

Peter stood up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders. “I could,” he said confidently.

Flash let out a loud, cackling guffaw. “Yeah, _right,”_ he snorted, eyeing Peter's slight frame. Peter had always been small and skinny for his age, and the spider bite had done nothing to change that, despite enhancing his strength to levels that surpassed even that of Captain America or Thor.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Flash, _please,_ just-”

He cut himself off abruptly as the skin on the back of his neck prickled, his hair standing on end all over his body. He was immediately on alert, glancing around the immediate area in alarm for anything of even minute suspicion.

“Yo, _Parker,_ I know you're kind of a spaz, but since when do you interrupt _yourself?”_

“ _Shut up,”_ Peter hissed desperately, turning around on the spot, trying to pinpoint where the danger might be coming from. His spidey-sense was going on the fritz, telling him that whatever was going to happen was going to happen _soon,_ and the danger was _close,_ and Flash needed to _get the hell out of there_ so Peter could duck into that alley over there and change into his suit-

Just as Peter was about to try to make up some kind of excuse, two men leaped out of the very alley that he had been thinking about ducking into, grabbing both him and Flash in tight holds, clapping cloth-covered hands over the boys' mouths and noses. Peter smelled the chloroform instantly, but he didn't have time to shout a warning to Flash before they were both silenced by the stifling fumes.

* * *

“ _Which one is the intern?”_

“ _The little one.”_

“ _So why'd you bring two of them?”_

“ _Other kid saw too much. Couldn't just let him go.”_

_A heavy sigh. “Yeah, fine, alright. Worst case scenario, he's useless and we have to take him back.”_

Peter came to with a killer headache, propped up on the concrete floor of what seemed to be a poorly lit garage, back to back with Flash, zip-tied to each other at the wrists.

Classy. Really.

He tilted his head in the direction of the garage door, focusing his enhanced hearing on every single sound he could pick up. If he could identify some sounds, he could start guessing how long he'd been unconscious and where he and Flash had been taken.

 _Birds chirping, leaves rustling, no traffic, no water._ Somewhere relatively remote, not near water.

Basically, Peter had no freaking clue.

Peter craned his neck, turning as far as he could in all directions to see where the quiet voices were coming from. He spotted two men standing in a far corner. He recognized one of them as one of the men who had jumped out of the alley, but the other was unfamiliar.

“Oh, good, he's awake,” the unfamiliar man said, standing up a little straighter when he saw Peter looking at them. As his posture changed, Peter's eyes fell on a handgun tucked into the man's belt, and his mouth went dry. He really hoped he wasn't planning on using that.

“What do you want?” Peter asked, his voice hard as the man approached him, scooting his knees up to his chest, realizing with some irritation that his ankles were zip-tied together, too, so he couldn't use his legs to kick if they got too close.

“A quarter billion in cash,” the man replied, grinning wolfishly.

Peter wrinkled his nose, as he felt Flash starting to stir behind his back. “Good luck with that.”

“Oh, I don't think I'll need luck,” the man snorted. “Not if I've got Tony Stark's personal intern.”

“ _What?”_ Peter heard Flash mutter under his breath, like he thought he might still be asleep and dreaming. Peter did his best to elbow Flash in the back to make him shut up.

“I don't think Mr. Stark's gonna pay a quarter billion dollars for an _intern,”_ Peter pointed out, though he was sort of lying through his teeth a little bit, because he knew perfectly well at this point that he wasn't just an intern. Normal interns didn't get their own bedrooms in Tony Stark's penthouse, and invites to spend weekends hanging out, and hugs and occasional kisses on the forehead when it was time to leave.

Yeah, Peter was special. Peter was special _to Tony,_ specifically. But the less people that knew that, the better, really. For reasons like the current situation.

The kidnapper took his hand out of his pocket, revealing a shiny set of brass knuckles hooked over his hand. Peter swallowed.

“I'm sure I can persuade him,” the man threatened, moving even closer, his imposing form looming over Peter and Flash, casting a frightening shadow in the dim light of the garage. “And who knows? With an extra kid, maybe we can raise our asking price. Quarter billion _per kid.”_

Peter heard Flash gulp audibly behind him. Apparently he was fully awake, now.

“Wait, no, you- ha, you don't want to keep me, Tony Stark doesn't even know who I am, I swear!” Flash babbled, sweating profusely behind Peter.

Peter groaned, tilting his head back, not caring that he ended up leaning more heavily on Flash's shoulder in the process. _“Seriously?”_ he complained. _“This_ is what it takes for you to admit that? And he does too know who you are, just because you've never talked to him in person before-”

Peter winced. He probably shouldn't have said that while the kidnappers were still in the room.

The kidnapper with the gun and the brass knuckles smiled, a slow, creepy expression that would probably give Peter nightmares for a week.

“Oh, yeah, we're definitely ransoming both of 'em,” he repeated.

Flash wiggled his arm around in the zipties securing his left hand to Peter's right, flexing his fingers until he managed to pinch Peter surprisingly hard for the awkward angle. _“Dumbass,”_ he grumbled. “They might have let me go.”

“ _Sorry,”_ Peter hissed back.

“Shut up, both of you,” the kidnapper ordered, toeing each of them in the side hard enough to startle them into silence, but probably not hard enough to bruise, while his buddy started setting up a laptop, pointing a webcam directly at Peter. The kidnapper with the gun reached into his pocket, and Flash flinched, but all that came out of the pocket was a ski mask, which the man pulled over his own face to hide it before the recording light flicked on.

Peter gaped at the webcam in disbelief. Aware that it was already recording, and possibly livestreaming, he blurted out, “Seriously, man? A hostage video? Do people really still do that?”

He could see the kidnapper's annoyance even with the ski mask obstructing his expression. “I said _shut up,”_ he growled, reaching down and cuffing Peter upside the head, much harder than he had kicked either of the boys previously.

“ _Just do what he says, Parker, or you'll get us both killed,”_ Flash hissed under his breath. He tried to sound obnoxious, like usual, but Peter could tell how scared he was, and that was what shut him up more than the hit.

Flash was annoying as hell, but he didn't deserve to get dragged into something like this. And he was only there because of _Peter._

Once he was satisfied that Peter wasn't going to mouth off again any time soon, the kidnapper turned back to the camera, taking the handgun out of his belt and holding it in frame. He was standing, so his upper body was probably cut off, since Peter and Flash were sitting on the floor and that's where the webcam was focused, but he definitely made his presence known, even without showing his mask-covered face.

“This message is for Tony Stark,” he announced, his voice loud and clear. “We have your intern, and, uh oh, looks like an innocent bystander got mixed up in things, too...” He leaned down and gripped Peter's hair to yank him to the side, allowing the camera get a better look at Flash sitting behind him. Flash gulped audibly and glanced over his shoulder briefly before turning back to face the blank wall in front of him, hunching slightly.

The one time he _doesn't_ want attention, Peter thought. But he couldn't really blame him.

“Don't worry, Stark. We'll give them back, safe and sound. But there'll be a price. There's always a price, after all.”

 _Oh my god, this guy sounds like a 1930s villain monologue,_ Peter groaned internally.

“250 million in cash by sundown, or bye bye Peter.” The kidnapper chuckled to himself, fiddling with the trigger on his handgun. “Well, that _was_ the plan. Now I'm sitting here with two kids, and I'm asking myself, why settle? So I'm doubling the price, and upping the stakes. _500 million_ in cash, and every hour that you keep me waiting...” He gripped Peter's hair again, and Peter couldn't help wincing. “Is another scar on these kids that _you'll_ have on your conscience forever.”

Peter's eyes widened. Going straight for Tony's guilt complex, this guy wasn't taking any shortcuts to his payday. Well, Peter couldn't have that.

"Don't give them anything, Mr. Stark!" he blurted out, despite knowing full well it would probably earn him another smack somewhere. "Don't listen to him! We're gonna be fine!"

"Oh my god, _shut the hell up!"_ Flash yelled, because he, unlike Peter apparently, had the desire to live past the age of sixteen.

"Oh, he'll shut up, alright," the kidnapper said darkly, and swung his brass-knuckle-armored fist at Peter's head.

Peter's vision blacked out before he even registered the pain.

* * *

“ _-ter! Peter, wake up, man... Come on, Parker, if you die I'm done for, I'm not worth rescuing on my own, Tony Stark's not gonna waste his time sending help if you're dead, he doesn't give two shits about me... Jesus, that's a lot of blood... Oh my god, **wake up-** ”_

Peter groaned, flailing out an arm to try to turn off the incessantly annoying alarm clock that appeared to have been set to _constant babble mode_. He squinted one eye open, and the first thing he registered was the splitting pain in his head, then the wet, sticky blood trailing down his forehead into his hair. Head wounds always did bleed more than any other kind. He was alive and awake though, at least, so it probably wasn't fatal.

Not that Peter was a good judge of what was fatal or not, according to Tony.

Flash let out a huge, whooshing breath when he saw Peter's eyes open, kneeling at Peter's side, a hand hovering near the other boy's shoulder, where he'd been torn between shaking him gently to try to wake him up faster, and being too afraid to touch him in case it hurt him more. “I thought you were _dead,”_ he snapped, but the underlying tone in his voice gave away his relief.

“You're not that lucky,” Peter mumbled, cracking a tired half-smile. “Can't get rid of me that easily.”

Flash huffed, sitting back on his heels and crossing his arms. “That's not funny,” he groused. “See if I ever worry about your sorry ass again.”

“Sorry,” Peter reconciled, pushing himself up on his elbows so he could sit up at least half-way. Flash shifted quickly to help support him, worry skitting across his face briefly, and Peter was touched that someone who disliked him so much would show such compassion.

Peter looked around the garage. It was empty now, aside from himself and Flash. “How long's it been?” he asked.

“You've been out for half an hour,” Flash replied nervously, checking his watch. “They took the zip-ties off after he knocked you out, thank god, because I don't want your blood all over my jacket, it's brand new...”

He was bluffing, Peter could tell. But Peter sort of appreciated that they were trying to keep up some semblance of normalcy, with the bickering.

Flash eyed the door that led into the rest of the house nervously. “You think he really meant it, about... hurting us? Every hour that he doesn't get money?”

Peter's head hurt too much to keep sitting up, so he let himself lay back down, even though the concrete wasn't much more comfortable. “I don't know,” he muttered. “Probably. And it's probably my fault, 'cause I talked back, so...” He shrugged one shoulder awkwardly, glancing at the other boy. “I'm really sorry, Flash.”

“Yeah, well...” Flash shifted to lay down on the concrete alongside Peter, sighing quietly. “Whatever, I guess.” He lifted his arm over his face to check his watch. “So I guess we've got twenty minutes until they come back to beat the shit out of us.”

Both boys were quiet for a couple minutes. It was a little awkward, but the kind of awkward that also said _I'm glad I'm not alone right now, even if you're not my first choice of company_.

Finally, Peter piped up, “You want to play I Spy, or something?”

Flash turned his head to give Peter his best _you've got to be kidding me_ look. “Seriously, Parker? You want to play I Spy in some creepy asshat's rank garage? There's nothing in here. _I Spy a god damn water stain on the wall_ , that's it. That's the most interesting thing in this room.”

“You got a better idea?” Peter groused.

Flash opened and closed his mouth a few times, probably trying to come up with a scathing retort, but he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and turning so he wasn't looking at Peter anymore.

That was a no, then.

“Twenty questions?” Peter suggested.

Flash groaned. “Oh my god, _fine,_ Jesus, you're annoying when you're bored...”

Peter snickered.

* * *

After a couple rounds of Twenty Questions, during which Peter made Flash guess the Millenium Falcon and Flash called him a nerd, and then Flash made Peter guess his stupid DJ alter ego and Peter called him a dork, which then led to a brief, slightly indignant argument about whale penises that involved kicking each other in the ankles, Flash let out a contemplative sigh, then asked quietly, “Why aren't you scared?”

“What?” Peter said, turning to look at the other boy.

“Just. We got abducted in the street, and we're being held hostage for 500 million dollars, and you're the last person I would expect to keep a level head about something like this, but you haven't freaked once.”

“Oh.” Peter was quiet for a beat, then said, whispering in case the kidnappers were listening somehow, “Mr. Stark put a tracker in my watch. I figured it wouldn't take long for him to figure out something was up, even if they hadn't made a video.” He lifted his wrist to show off the watch that Tony had tricked out with all kinds of ridiculous helicopter parent features months ago.

“ _What?!”_ Flash yelled, sitting bolt upright, gaping at Peter in disbelief. He shoved the other boy in the arm, scowling. “And you didn't think that might be a good thing to _mention?_ I've been sitting here thinking we're gonna die, and you've been sitting on that this whole time! What the hell, Parker?”

“Well, ok, first of all, I didn't mention it before because I didn't want _them_ to find out, take the watch, and break it, 'cause then we actually _might have,_ ” Peter grumbled, fending off Flash's half-hearted attacks by rolling a couple feet away. “Quit it, will you?”

Flash stopped poking and pushing him, but he didn't stop glaring, pouting like a child. “Can't believe you didn't _tell me_ we were gonna get rescued,” he huffed, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Well, you would have found out sooner or later,” Peter said dryly, pushing himself into a sitting position, propped up against the wall for support, since his head was still pounding.

Just then, the door leading into the house opened, and the kidnappers returned. Apparently that hour had finally passed.

“No money yet,” the first one said, grinning sort of sadistically. “I guess Stark doesn't care about his precious intern as much as we thought.”

“Or he doesn't negotiate with criminals,” Peter muttered under his breath. Flash kicked him.

“Well, he'd better start soon,” the kidnapper said, and that was all the warning he gave before the other two men stepped forward. One of them seized Peter by the ankle, dragging him away from the wall so he was lying flat on his back again, and then _twisted_ , until Peter felt something shift out of place and he let out a sharp cry.

“Shit, Peter-!” Flash yelped, horrified, before he realized that the other one was looming over him, ready to do something equally painful to him, probably.

Peter's ankle was screaming in pain, a horrible, off-key tune that harmonized with the pain in his head in a way that made the artificial ghost wails on a retro Halloween sound effects tape sound pleasant, but he caught the terrified look on Flash's face and started scooting across the floor. He may only look like Peter Parker right now, but he was still Spider-Man. He at least had to _try_ to protect the other boy.

Flash curled up in a ball with his arms covering his face as the man raised his fists to deliver what was sure to be a painful blow, but just before he could deliver a first punch, Peter reached out and pushed Flash out of the way, feeling the man's fist smack sharply into his own chest, instead, as he did his best to move in front of Flash and block him from harm's way.

When Flash realized what Peter was doing, he started protesting, the panic in his voice growing to a shrill pitch. “Parker, are you _insane?_ ”

“A little,” Peter groaned, curling in on himself with one final blow directly to his stomach and drooping to the side. His aching, abused head connected hard with the concrete floor, but he was too sore to care, by now.

Apparently satisfied with the damage done, the kidnappers stepped away from the two boys.

“You'd better hope help is on the way, or we'll be back in an hour,” the first one said unsympathetically as the door closed behind him.

“Oh my god, I always knew you were crazy, but I didn't think you were _jump in front of a bullet_ crazy,” Flash lamented, crawling closer to Peter to see if he was still breathing.

“Wasn' a bullet,” Peter pointed out, slurring a little.

“Same principle, don't even go there right now,” Flash grumbled, satisfied that Peter was at least still coherent. “You shouldn't have done that, you moron.”

“You're welcome.”

“I didn't say thank you, and I'm not going to, you're insane.”

“Mph.” Peter rolled onto his back, closing his eyes against the skull-splitting pain wracking his entire body, then he paused, tilting his head. “'pulsors.”

“What?” Flash asked, confused. “Do you have a concussion? Are you talking nonsense now?”

Peter shook his head, eyes still closed. “3...2...1...”

A hole was blasted in the garage door, causing scraps of glass and wood to fly into the room as the outside world was revealed. Standing in the driveway was Iron Man, with what looked like an entire fleet of police parked behind him, getting out of cars and running toward the house to arrest the kidnappers, guns raised.

“Oh,” Flash said weakly, his eyes wide as he gaped at Iron Man. “ _Re_ pulsors. Got it.”

The helmet of the Iron Man suit retracted, revealing Tony's face pinched with worry as his eyes landed on Peter. He stepped out of the suit fully and hurried to Peter's side, while another officer followed him in to check on Flash.

“Holy shit, Iron Man came to rescue us,” Flash muttered, a little dazedly, still staring at Tony as the officer reached a hand down to help him stand up. “Insane. _Insane._ ”

“Told you,” Peter mumbled, batting limply at Tony's hand as he tried to check the cut on Peter's forehead. “'m fine, Mssr S'rk...”

“I'll believe that when you remember how to use vowels,” Tony shot back, though his voice was fond as he helped Peter sit up. “Jesus, kid...”

“He was protecting me,” Flash said guiltily. “He shouldn't be that beat up.”

Tony shook his head, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “Of course he was,” he huffed. He ruffled Peter's hair gently, mindful of the nasty cut on his forehead. “You're giving me gray hair, kiddo. Can you stand?”

“Yup.” Peter clambered to his feet, leaning heavily on Tony, but as soon as he put weight on the ankle that had been twisted around, his knees buckled. “Um, nope.”

Tony sighed heavily.

* * *

Peter didn't go back to school until Friday, to give his concussion some time to heal. His enhanced healing took care of the bruised ribs pretty quickly, but he was still limping on his sprained ankle by the time he returned.

Ned greeted him with a massive hug when he saw him that morning, relieved to see that Peter was still alive after the kidnapping ordeal. Peter informed him that he was being very dramatic, he'd only been kidnapped for, like, an _hour_.

(Apparently Flash had taken Peter being out of school as an opportunity to weave the story into an incredibly dramatic, harrowing tale of fear, trauma, and danger. Because he was Flash. Of course he did.)

After school, Peter limped down the front staircase to get to Happy's car. It was Friday, after all, so he was headed back to the Compound for an internship weekend, even though he'd been there for two days already, recovering in the Med-Bay.

Flash caught up with him again, giving Peter a strong sense of deja vu, minus the sense of danger this time. “Yo, Parker!”

“Hi, Flash,” Peter greeted, not slowing down, since he figured he was already slow enough, given the way he was practically hobbling down the steps.

“So, uh, I wanted to say, um...” Flash cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks, I guess.”

Peter stopped walking and turned to look at Flash, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “I thought you said you weren't going to say thank you, because I'm a moron?”

“You are a moron,” Flash said, scowling. “But it was still... really cool of you. What you did. So. Thanks. I guess you're not _completely_ the worst.”

Peter grinned. “You're welcome.”

Flash shrugged, then glanced at the car Peter was making his way to. “So... internship, right?”

Peter looked as well. Happy made a vague gesture from the front seat that could maybe almost pass as a wave, and Peter waved back.

“Yep. Internship.”

Flash nodded, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the ground. “Have fun,” he said, and he actually sounded sincere, with no indication that he was going to tack on a sarcastic comment about Peter being a dirty, rotten liar.

“Thanks.” Peter smiled again, and took off towards the car. “See you Monday, Flash!” he called over his shoulder.

He guessed Flash wasn't completely the worst, either.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@riseuplikeglitterandgold!](https://riseuplikeglitterandgold.tumblr.com/)


End file.
